PTB's Writing Challenge 2013
by Fairusa84
Summary: 52 weekly prompts throughout the year.
1. 2 The Empty Glass

**PTB's Writing Challenge 2013**

Challenge Number/Title: #2 – The Empty Glass

Date posted: 02/19/2013

Fandom: Twilight

Rating: M

Genre: Canon

Content Descriptors: post-BD, mostly fluff

Character Pairing: Bella/Edward

Disclaimer**: **Stephenie Meyer and Summit own the rights to the _Twilight_ franchise and its affiliates. These words, however, are the product of my own imagination. No copyright infringement intended, but also, please don't copy as your own.

* * *

"Ugh!" I exclaimed as I threw the deer's carcass away from me.

"I told you to get the younger one," Edward teased. "They make for more sport and taste better."

"Marginally," I muttered.

Truth be told, it wasn't the taste of the old buck that put me off. Frankly, I didn't mind ending its suffering, as the poor animal had lost nearly all of its teeth and was slowly starving. But the taste of plant eaters in general was, at times, insufficient. It had been a while since I had taken down a mountain lion, but I could recall with perfect clarity its much richer taste. More muddled, but no less appealing, were my memories of sipping human blood from a styrofoam cup when I had been pregnant with Renesmee.

Edward moaned in a combination of discomfort and hunger; I quickly raised my mental shield again. After decades together, it had gotten easier for me to lower my shield when he was around; we had even discovered that our bond as mates allowed Edward to 'speak' into my mind, enabling silent communication. On occasion, I would let him in, then raise my shield around us both, creating a mental bubble while his arms provided the physical one. At this moment, however, I knew my clouded human memories would remind Edward of the taste of my own blood, as well as his victims' in his vigilante days.

His moan brought me out of my thoughts, igniting another one of my instincts. Ever since I had awoken, my desire for my husband had only increased. The almost animalistic need for each other was especially heightened immediately after hunting, which was why Renesmee never fed with us both. I barely had time to kick the remains of my kill further away before Edward had me pinned to a nearby rock and was tearing away my clothes, revealing my skin to the August sun.

**o.O.o**

A few weeks later, Renesmee, Alice and I came back from a class we were taking at the local university, to find the family home suspiciously void of vampires. The only one greeting us was Jacob, waiting on the front porch for my daughter, waiting to take her on a date for her birthday. When we'd had to relocate, a year or two after my change, he had left his pack and joined us, not wanting to be separated from his imprint. We had gone back a few times to pay our respects when someone from our human lives had died, or to celebrate a happier occasion, but Jacob seemed happy spending most of his time with his vampire family.

Next to me, Renesmee was vibrating with excitement, as she always was after having spent even the smallest amount of times apart from Jacob. I knew the feeling all too well; after a day mostly apart – we were following different courses this time around – I longed to reconnect with my mate. On my other side, an impatient Alice was smiling at me mischievously.

"Have fun," she said, winking, before darting off into the woods in search for Jasper.

Jacob held out his hand for Renesmee to take, and after a brief hug, they left as well, leaving me standing alone in the driveway. As the rumbling of Jacob's bike faded away into the distance, the soft notes of my lullaby emanated from the house.

I smiled to myself.

Edward was welcoming me home.

I let the soft sounds of my husband's piano play wash over me for a few moments, basking in the emotions they invoked. I felt Edward's mind reach out to me and lowered my shield, letting him in.

_I've missed you_, his mind's voice, an even more velvety version of his normal one, spoke.

Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, I quickly made my way inside as the final notes lingered in the air. Edward sat motionless at the piano, his fingers poised over the keys he had struck last. His eyes were closed and a serene smile played on his lips. I closed the distance between us and hugged him from behind, resting my chin on his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.

"Welcome home, love," he said, raising my wrist to his lips and placing a soft kiss to the crescent-shaped scar there.

I kissed below his ear as I thought to him, _Where is everyone?_

"They've left for the weekend to give us some time alone," he answered as he turned to face me. "Happy anniversary, Bella."

Puzzled, I searched his face, looking for a clue. My birthday – both human and vampire – was still a few days away and would be celebrated together with our daughter's, marking the milestone. And our wedding anniversary had been just the month before.

"It's fifty years today that we both tasted human blood for the last time," he clarified.

"Okay," I replied slowly. "That's great. But I still don't see the significance."

Rising from his seat, he took my hands and guided me through the house, into the large kitchen.

Since I had come into their lives, the Cullens had found an actual use for the room, even more so since Renesmee and Jacob had joined us. Even though it was only the two of them eating the food, Esme loved to cook for them, and several family members could usually be found joining them at the table, if for nothing more than just pleasurable company. Even Rosalie had found a way to participate in the, to her still unappealing, activity; she had taken it upon herself to find the most beautiful crystal glasses, and the finest China.

Today, two large, hand-blown, Venetian wine glasses from her collection were waiting on the granite counter, a red rose placed in front of them.

"Go ahead, read the card," Edward said. "I'll just get something from the pantry."

Carefully picking up the flower, I sniffed its sweet fragrance before opening the plain card attached to it.

_My Bella, my love,_ I read. _Fifty years ago today marked the start of our eternity together as you began your change. I cherish every second of that eternity with you, and want to give you something special to celebrate this milestone. You have my heart, Edward._

A lump formed in my throat at his thoughtful words, and tears would have been pooling in my eyes if I had still been capable of shedding them.

Edward materialized behind me, a carafe to match the antique glasses in his hand. A carafe filled with what looked like sumptuous red wine. Again, I looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Baby, I know we keep wine around for Ness, and for appearance's sake…" I started, but he cut me off with a finger to my lips.

"Do you see this?" he asked, pointing towards the stopper.

Upon closer examination, the stopper didn't originally belong to the carafe. The elongated bulb was engraved with the Cullen family crest, and fitted to a stainless steel, conical stopper.

"It's especially designed to provide an airtight seal," he continued. "It allowed me to keep this in the house without driving Jasper crazy with bloodlust," he chuckled.

When he pulled out the stopper, the most mouth-watering aroma filled the air around us, and I knew my eyes would be darkening with thirst. The carafe did not contain wine; in it was blood. Human blood. Venom pooled in my mouth at the smell, heightened by Edward's reaction to its scent. If I didn't have better control, I would have yanked the carafe from his hands and devoured its contents then and there. Instead, I swallowed and licked my lips, focusing on my mate's hungry gaze. In a wise move, he placed the stopper back, diminishing the immediate temptation, albeit slightly. Adding the glasses to his hand holding the carafe, he took my hand with his free one, and guided me to the central staircase.

"After our hunt the other day, I figured we might as well enjoy a treat," he started to explain. "So I asked Carlisle to bring home some blood from the blood bank. I was hoping to enjoy a few glasses of it to mark half a century with my wife. In our bed."

Suffice it to say, those glasses didn't remain empty for long.


	2. 7 Valentine Loos

**PTB's Writing Challenge 2013**

Challenge Number/Title: #7 Valentine Loos

Date posted: 03/03/2013

Fandom: Twilight

Rating: M

Genre: AH

Content Descriptors: references to pseudo-incest

Character Pairing: Edward/Bella

Disclaimer**: **Stephenie Meyer and Summit own the rights to the _Twilight_ franchise and its affiliates. These words, however, are the product of my own imagination. No copyright infringement intended, but also, please don't copy as your own.

* * *

"Shit, fuck, damn!" I softly curse as I jump out of bed.

Once again I have managed to switch off my alarm in my sleep, and have startled awake about ten minutes before I absolutely have to be in my car to school, otherwise I'll be late. This is happening much too often lately. It wouldn't be so bad if it meant I was getting a lot of sleep. However, I spend most of the night tossing and turning, only to fall asleep early in the morning.

Resigning myself to yet another bad hair day and a pop tart for breakfast, I grab a towel from the hallway closet and rush into the bathroom. I jump when the cold water hits my skin, but I don't have time to wait for it to warm up. Luckily, my father had a state-of-the-art water heater installed when we moved into this house, and it doesn't take long until steam fills the room. I bask in it for a moment, then quickly squirt shampoo into my palm to rub in my hair.

Surrounded by the scent of my strawberry shampoo, I allow myself a few moments to indulge in my guilty pleasure; I pick up the other bottle of shampoo that's in the shower, open its cap, and inhale deeply. I wish I had the nerve to use this shampoo instead of my own, and be surrounded by its scent all day, but that would be too obvious and draw unwanted attention. Especially from my step-brother Edward. He enjoys teasing me enough as it is, and I don't need to stroke his ego any more than he already does himself.

After replacing the bottle to its spot on the built-in shelf, I move to rinse when I hear the bathroom door slam and the lock turn. I silently berate myself for having forgotten to lock the door, hoping that it's my step-mother who just walked in, or even my father. Carefully peeking around the shower curtain confirms my suspicion; tapping his foot to the beat of whatever song is playing on his iPod, my stepbrother is busy perfecting his sex hair.

I'm not sure if he has had sex yet, but school gossip suggests he has, and he makes sure he at least looks like he's been freshly fucked. His clothes are always just a little bit too rumpled, he prides himself on being able to grow scruff, his jeans hug his shapely ass in the most sinful of ways, and his hair always looks like some lucky girl has just run her hands through it in the throes of passion.

It should be illegal to go to school looking like that.

I try to stay hidden and turn off the shower, hoping he'll be finished soon and I can rinse and condition, but luck is once again not on my side. Mesmerized as I am, I don't feel the suds running down my forehead until one falls into my eye, making me cry out at the sudden sting. Edward's hands freeze in mid-air and his widened eyes find mine in the mirror before he whirls around.

"Bella? What are you doing in here?" he stupidly asks.

I groan, "Trying to have a quick shower… Ow!"

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the damage has been done.

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding a bit closer than before.

"I will be, just leave so I can finish," I practically beg.

I don't need my sexy-as-hell step-brother to see me naked with soap in my eyes.

"Fine, don't get your panties twisted," he mutters.

I don't bother answering him, and instead wait impatiently for the door to close again. Except that it never happens. I don't even hear it open.

"I'm serious, Edward," I threaten. "Get the hell out."

"I'm trying," he grits out through clenched teeth. "But the stupid door won't open."

True enough, I hear him twist the lock and jiggle the handle. It doesn't budge.

"Are you kidding me?" I complain, more to myself, but Edward answers anyway.

"You're welcome to try yourself."

Although I have no reason not to believe him, I quickly rinse the shampoo from my hair and eyes, hearing him continue to try the door. When I reach for the towel, I remember I left in on the counter next to the sink, and a blush creeps up my face.

"Uhm, Edward?" I cautiously peek around the shower curtain again. "Could you hand me my towel?"

Instead of the smart-ass retort I am expecting, he wordlessly hands it to me while averting his eyes. Our fingers touch as I take the towel from his outstretched hand, and I swear a feel a jolt of energy run through my arm. It's similar to the static electricity of touching metal while wearing wool, but less painful, more like a slow burn. I gasp and jerk my hand back, clutching the towel, watching his fingers flex and his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. Has he felt it too?

"Thanks," I finally manage.

I roughly dry my hair, not bothering with conditioner, and wrap the towel around my body before exiting the shower. Edward is still busy trying to open the door, but spares me a furtive glance that lingers around the edges of my towel. At my raised eyebrow he steps aside and gestures to the door.

"Go ahead."

I jiggle the handle, pull the door, even push against it, but it remains stuck. Turning the lock proves pointless, too, as it turns around freely, most likely because the mechanism inside snapped.

"It's stuck."

"Like I said."

Choosing not to react to his comment, I focus on the door in front of me. There has to be a way to get out of this room. Having exhausted the option of getting out of here by ourselves, I pick the next available thing to do, and start banging my hands on it, calling out to my father and Esme.

"It's no use, they already left."

"Well, can't you call them?" I cry, panic slowly setting in.

"I left my phone in my room…"

Nearing hysterics, I resume banging on the door, calling out for help. I can't be stuck in here all day. I don't have any food, or clothes, and the room is much too small… The walls start closing in on me, bile rises in my throat, and black spots cloud my vision. Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me from the door and into a firm chest, and I struggle against them, needing space around me. It isn't until I hear Edward's voice that I am pulled from my oncoming panic attack.

"Shhh, Bella, relax," he murmurs in my ear. "You're hyperventilating. Breathe with me," he instructs, placing a hand in the middle of my chest as he deliberately breathes behind me. "In… two… three… four… Out… two… three… four… Good girl."

I sag against him, my blood still rushing through my veins, my heart pounding wildly.

Once the panic subsides, it's replaced by embarrassment. I can't believe I freaked out like that in front of him. I push against him and he releases his hold on me.

"Are you okay?" he asks for the second time in ten minutes.

"Yeah," I manage, still shaking. "I just need to… sit down for a minute."

He immediately closes the lid on the toilet and guides me over to it. When he is sure I won't fall off, he fills one of the glasses next to the sink with water from the tap and hands in to me. Its coolness feels divine on my suddenly parched lips and I can't suppress a soft groan.

"Bella?" he calls my attention after a few minutes.

I look up at him to find a concerned frown marring his features.

"What was that?"

Normally, I would brush off his questions, but something in his eyes tells me he is genuinely concerned, and I only hesitate briefly before answering him.

"I don't like being in confined spaces without a way out," I confess. "That would have been a panic attack if you hadn't calmed me down."

"Wow… I had no idea."

"Well, I don't go around broadcasting it to the world, so… Anyway, thanks."

"Do you think it'll happen again?"

"Not if you keep me distracted."

"Okay, I'll do my best," he says, looking around the room.

There isn't much in here to occupy us for any length of time, and I am once again starting to dread whatever length of time we'll spend stuck in this bathroom.

"Do you think someone will come to see where we are?" I ask in a small voice.

"I don't know," Edward sighs. "How about that friend of yours, Angela?"

Surprised, I cut my eyes to him. He actually knows my best friend's name? He is always so careful to ignore us whenever we're hanging out over here. However, she won't think anything of me cutting class today, so I shake my head.

"She'll just think I'm ditching to avoid all the mushiness of today," I say, shrugging, and it's not even a lie.

I have been thinking about feigning sickness to avoid the day, anyway.

"What? No hot date?" Edward asks, and I'm not sure if he's mocking me or not.

I don't bother answering his ridiculous question; my silence speaking volumes.

"Secret admirer?" he tries again.

"Come on, Edward, I'm either at school, in the library, or here. When would I meet someone who'd be even remotely interested? Or are you suggesting the guys are lined up for a date with the geek?" I fight to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

He laughs and shakes his head.

"Oh, you'd be surprised. Not every guy wants a cheerleader."

"Speaking of which," I change the subject. "Won't what's-her-face Miss Head Cheerleader miss your presence today?"

"Heidi? Probably not until I'm late picking her up tonight."

I scoff, "Yeah right. She's been fawning all over you for weeks."

"It's not what you think, Bella. And shouldn't you get dressed?" he effectively changes the subject, for now.

I fidget, all too aware that I'm clad in nothing more than a towel, and avert my eyes.

"Don't worry, I'll turn around," he chuckles.

"It's not that. I uhm… didn't bring anything," I mumble. "I came in wearing the towel," I clarify upon his puzzled gaze.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

He thinks for a minute, then stands and unbuckles his pants, dropping them to the floor.

"Edward, what the hell?"

"You've got to wear something, B. Can you turn around for a sec?"

I oblige him and turn towards the shower, closing my eyes for good measure. A few moments later, a piece of fabric, soft and warm, is thrust into my hand. When I look, I'm holding Edward's Bjorn Borg boxers.

"Don't worry, they're clean. I only put them on half an hour ago," he assures me with a smile.

"But what about you?"

"I don't mind going commando for a change," he winks, and my mind is instantly transported to a much dirtier place.

I stand and shimmy into his underwear under my towel, smiling at him in thanks. He then pulls his shirt over his head and gives it for me to wear, but my eyes zero in on a mark on his left ribcage. His eyes follow my gaze, then look back to me.

"Did I…?"

"You pack quite the punch, sis," he says, winking.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," I say, reaching out to touch the bruise.

He doesn't move away from me, and almost in slow motion, my fingers make contact with his skin. The energy that nearly shocked me earlier now feels more like a tingling buzz. I can't resist and gently caress where I hurt him. He inhales sharply at my touch then stops breathing altogether, and I think I do too. I look up into his eyes and what I see startles me so much I step back. Gone is the smug arrogance I am used to finding, there is no amused smirk playing on his lips. Instead I see something I can't quite name but feels very familiar. I blink, he swallows, and the moment is gone.

Quickly donning his shirt, attempting a surreptitious sniff and detecting faint traces of his Axe body wash, I busy myself with brushing my teeth since, you know, I'm stuck in a bathroom and all. My hair is a mess, not having used conditioner, and now drying in tangles, so I just braid it.

When I turn back around, I catch Edward scratching his crotch, and I'm both intrigued and repulsed. The motion causes his dick to become outlined against the fabric of his jeans, but I shudder to think what would cause an itch down there. In turn, I am caught staring at him as he is scratching. He quirks a brow at me, causing me to scramble for an excuse. It takes me a few moments of desperately avoiding looking down again to come with something.

"Should you be going out with uhm…"

"Heidi?"

"…when you have crabs?"

"Crabs? What brought this on?" he asks, surprise coloring his voice.

"Your reputation… I know Jane had crabs a while ago, and you went out with her… You were just scratching yourself…"

"Seriously, Bella?" he exclaims. "Do you honestly believe petty high school gossip?

I shrug, "I know not everything is true, but there has to be some truth to it all?"

"Yeah, I've dated a bunch of girls. So what? I've never gone beyond second base with any of them. In fact…"

"Never mind, Edward. It's not any of my business," I interrupt him, not really wanting to delve into the more illicit activities of my 'brother'.

Hearing him call me _sis_ earlier was bad enough of a blow to my ego as it is.

He is not having any of it, though. His nostrils flare as he approaches me, his bare chest heaving in his anger.

"No, let me set a few things straight. For one, I do not have crabs. I have not, nor will I ever have sex with Jane. She is much too slutty for my taste. Second, that itch you saw me scratch, is the result of some _manscaping_ I stupidly let Emmett talk me into. And third, you don't know anything about my deal with Heidi!"

"Then tell me!" I raise my voice along with his. "How am I supposed to know what to believe about you, when you put on this cocky, playboy act? For someone I'm sharing a bathroom and parents with, the only information I get comes from the same rumor mill he's telling me not to believe. Can you explain that to me?"

He sighs and rakes his hands through his hair.

"That's exactly my point!" he yells. "It's all an act!"

Why would he need to act? He is pretty much what girls want, and what guys want to be: gorgeous, confident, sexy, smart…

"I don't understand…" I stammer.

"Of course you wouldn't," he says miserably. "You've got so many options. You're smart, and without even trying. Do you know how many hours I spend studying, and I still get a B at the most? It wouldn't be so bad, if I was good at sports to compensate, but I can't even do a proper tumble in gym class!"

A giggle escapes me at the mental image of Edward landing flat on his back during his attempts. He is right, his coordination is terrible. He glares at me, then breaks out in laughter too, before continuing his rant.

"So I did the only thing I'm good at. Charming people. But I can't even keep up that charade. So I struck a deal with Heidi. She's pretty, and nice enough, and she wants me to take her virginity tonight, on Valentine's Day."

"Just like that? You're going to give it up to someone you don't love, to be rid of it? What's wrong with letting it come naturally?"

"Because the only girl I really want is the one I can't have!" he yells, leaning heavily on the sink.

Part of me knows what he means, but another part wants to hear the words coming from him. I move closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to offer him some comfort, and the courage to carry on.

Can it be true that the day of the year I dread the most will turn out to be the best for both of us? That it would take an uncooperative lock to trap us together, forcing us to really talk?

After what feels like hours, he looks up, frustration making room for hope in his eyes.

"Bella, I've never considered you my sister," he confesses, turning around to face me. "You've always been so much more."


	3. 14 Filled with Hyperbole

**PTB's Writing Challenge 2013**

Challenge Number/Title: #14 – Filled with Hyperbole

Date posted:25/04/2013

Fandom: Twilight

Rating: T

Genre: AH

Content Descriptors: Comedy/Angst

Character Pairing: Bella

Disclaimer**: **Stephenie Meyer and Summit own the rights to the _Twilight_ franchise and its affiliates. These words, however, are the product of my own imagination. No copyright infringement intended, but also, please don't copy as your own.

* * *

The first thing I notice when I walk through my front door is the carefully folded piece of paper on my hallway table, held in place by my key. Leave it to my mother to accompany a simple delivery with an elaborate note. Deciding to see what she has to say before I find out the hard way what she has done this time, I drop my keys in their designated bowl and hang up my jacket as I unfold the note.

_Sweetheart,_

_The delivery guys got here nice and early, and they were absolutely lovely in setting up your new couch where you indicated. I put the throw pillows on it, but you can rearrange them if you want to. They were working so hard, lugging the couch up __**thousands of steps**__, since the elevator is still broken – they were __**sweating buckets**__. I hope you don't mind, but I offered them some coffee so they could have a rest and catch their breath._

_While I was in your kitchen I noticed the dishes in your sink, so I washed them for you. You'll only need to put them away once they're dry. I also vacuumed and cleaned your bathroom for you. The dryer was done, so I folded your laundry – it's on your bed. I know you're so very busy these days, so I thought I'd help out and get those chores out of your way._

_Why don't you come over for dinner later this week? Give me a call, and I'll be sure to make your favorite._

_Love,_

_Mom_

_PS The cute blonde delivery guy said he has a girlfriend, and he was a little too unkempt for my taste. But I know you like them a little rough around the edges, so I managed to get the other guy's number for you. He's a graduate student, just like you, but works part-time as a delivery guy. He's quite tall and lean, but judging by the way he handled that couch, I'd say he's strong as well. He's got the thickest hair I've ever seen on a man, and a __**million dollar smile**__. Now, the only downside I could see so far is that he has a tattoo on his shoulder, but he'll just have to cover that up whenever your father is around. Give him a call; he's already seen your picture and __**blushed like a shy teenage girl**__ when I asked him for his opinion on it._

Dread settles in the pit of my stomach. I should have known, leaving her in my apartment by herself all day. My mother has a tendency to clean my house, which is not too bad in and of itself. I mean, she means well, and I don't care for it much. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I **live in a pig sty**. I just don't spend all of my free time keeping the house in perfect order.

I think it's like empty nest syndrome or something. She still mothers over me so much, and for some reason I let her. My sister has told me, every time I complain to her about our mother's meddling, to just remind her of the fact that I live on my own now. But that's easy for her to say. She is almost **stereotypically gorgeous** – blonde, busty, leggy – and living the **picture perfect life** with her wonderful boyfriend and their cat. The only thing missing is a ring on her finger. Besides, she has always been the more outspoken one when it comes to dealing with our parents. I always try to keep the peace, willing to compromise if it means making the other person happy. It's part of the reason why I usually end up being taken advantage of by boyfriends. I have finally convinced my mother that, although I wouldn't mind meeting someone, I am not looking for Mr. Right at the moment. It's not like I'll die an old maid, anyway; for one, **I haven't reached menopause** by a long shot, and I am perfectly content on my own, for another. After having repeated myself **a gazillion times**, she has finally given up fixing me up with **every available man between the ages of twenty and thirty-five** she comes across.

Instead, she has made it her mission to make sure I maintain her unattainably high standards of housekeeping. There is **no chance in hell** I will every willingly pick up a mop or rag with a smile on my face **when there are still books left to be read**, but she is relentless. So I indulge her, and let her unleash her cleaning frenzy from time to time. That is not to say it doesn't freak me out when she forces her own sense of logic on the way I have organized things around my house. It's a catch-22, really, and I have no one to blame for it but myself.

I've always been a little OCD about where things go. When we were kids, I would chastise my sister if she put the crayons in the box out of order – rainbow order, obviously. My mother ended up getting us a large tub to put them in, just to avoid fights. And I couldn't go to sleep if my stuffed animals were misaligned along my headboard. I really hate it when my things aren't the way I want them to be. I'm just too anal about my own things for that. That's one of the reason I don't like it when someone else tidies up my living space. It's easier and faster if I do it myself. But my mother, trying to be helpful, puts things back where she thinks they should go and not where they actually go.

So instead of coming home and sitting down, I flash from room to room **like a whirlwind on acid**, anxiously working to get my apartment back to the way I left it – with the addition of my new couch.

In the bathroom, she put my toiletries around the sink back out of order. My toothbrush is no longer next to my deodorant, and my nail polish is suddenly behind my perfume instead of in front of it. My hairbrush and facial wipes have switched places, and my moisturizer is pathetically confined to a corner of the shelf instead of its prominent position in front of the mirror. Upon inspection of the cupboard holding my towels, I find that she put them the wrong way around; they're folded and rolled up correctly, but the wrong end is facing.

I huff in annoyance and quickly rectify the situation. I purposely avoid my reflection, knowing I must resemble **a crazed cartoon character**.

In the kitchen, the dishes are on the drying rack, but completely illogically placed and my herbs/spices rack is out of order. Knowing not everyone will take a picture of a shelf before moving the items on it when cleaning it, just to be sure they're put back in their original place, I work quickly, silently chanting to myself _she's you're mother, she means well._

When I make it to my bedroom, I have **the worst meltdown since Chernobyl**. Not only has she folded some shirts that go in the hanging part of my closet, and folded my pajamas in a completely different way than I do, but the woman _folded_ my underwear! I honestly freak out, and panties go flying. I am not even going into how embarrassing it is that my mother has been handling my underwear, but it's the fact that she actually folded it. I simply toss them in the top drawer and dig through that on a daily basis. As neat as I am, I like having that one drawer an organized mess.

My heart is racing by now and I can feel a nervous rash spreading from my chest up to my face and into my hair. When I can finally confirm that everything is back to the way it should be, I flop down onto my brand new couch and call my best friend. She hears the residual tremor in my voice and not even twenty minutes later she rings my doorbell, a bottle of chardonnay in one hand and a tub of Ben & Jerry's in the other.

"You need to tell her not to 'help' you anymore like this," comes her helpful advice.

If only I could follow through on that.


	4. 17 Mishap Funnies

**PTB's Writing Challenge 2013**

Challenge Number/Title: #17 – Mishap Funnies

Date posted: 06/08/2013

Fandom: Twilight

Rating: M

Genre: AH

Content Descriptors: Comedy

Character Pairing: Bella/Esme

Disclaimer**: **Stephenie Meyer and Summit own the rights to the _Twilight_ franchise and its affiliates. These words, however, are the product of my own imagination. No copyright infringement intended, but also, please don't copy as your own.

Author's note: Part of this entry was written during TFMUUK, where we had to write up a little something including the following words: cochineal / cochlea / cock / cockabully / cockade / cock-a-doodle-doo / cock-a-hoop / cock-a-leekie. I liked what I came up with so much that I decided to expand on it and use it for this prompt. Please see your dictionary for the words' meanings. Also, thanks to Chelle and Amy for organizing the weekend!

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"Now, Bella, pay attention, dear," Esme said.

I know she meant it kindly, but I couldn't help but envision a stern look on her face. For weeks, I had been walking on egg shells around her, terrified she would find out my dirty little secret. I shook off those distracting thoughts, straightened my shoulders and focused on the woman walking next to me in the local Thriftway. We were buying ingredients for our next recipe, and Esme had come with a lengthy and detailed list of items we would need.

"My mother-in-law is visiting this weekend, so we will be making a traditional Scottish dinner."

"I thought Carlisle was Irish?" I wondered aloud.

"He is, but his grandmother is Scottish."

Suddenly, my mind was filled with an image of Esme's youngest son in a kilt, with long, wild hair and blue-and-white face paint on his face, roaring in outrage. Then I imagined exploring the tales about Scots and their kilts, making that roar turn into a pleasured cock-a-hoop growl, much like had happened the night before. He had quite enjoyed my venture underneath the covers, although he had been quick to push them completely off, wanting to look at me as I was putting the tips from last week's Cosmo into practice.

"Bella," Esme's concerned voice broke me out of my reverie. "Are you alright? You look rather flushed…"

Out of reflex, my hands shot up to my face. As I suspected, it was flaming in heat.

"Uhm… I… uhm…" I stammered, trying to find a reasonable explanation to give my mother's best friend, who was graciously giving me free cooking lessons.

And whose son I had been sleeping with for the last four weeks.

I had practically grown up with both Cullen boys, our mothers being so close and all, but there were never more than buddies to play with. On occasion, they would act as the big brother I had never had, like when Lauren Mallory would make fun of me for not having the most fashionable clothes. We grew apart a bit after high school, going to college in different parts of the country. I actually hadn't seen either of them in months when I ran into the youngest Cullen in a bar in Port Angeles at the beginning of summer break.

A night of reconnecting with my high school friends Angela Weber, now Cheney, and Alice Brandon had turned into an evening of surreptitious glances and sneaky texts – once he had slipped me his number during an encounter at the bar. He had even volunteered to drive me home himself when my friends decided to go home at the ridiculously early hour of eleven.

No sooner had the girls driven off, than his arm had slipped around my waist and he had pulled me close for a searing kiss. Somewhere in the back of my mind I had been thinking it should have been awkward, seeing my childhood friend in this new capacity, but it had just felt so right, I had soon stopped that train of thought. He did make good on his promise of driving me home, but not before thoroughly ravishing me in the backseat of his car.

After we had readjusted our clothes, he had confessed he had been thinking of me quite a lot since our last rendezvous, over Christmas, and we had agreed to meet up again the next day. That turned into almost daily meetings at either a quiet spot around town or our new favorite hide-out; a secluded meadow off one of the hiking trails. This week, I had the house to myself, since my mother had decided to join my father on a business trip, extending it to a short getaway for the two of them. I made sure to take advantage of that, and hadn't spent a night alone since they had left. I reveled in being able to jump him the moment he arrived, falling asleep with his warm body curled around mine, only to wake up to his morning wood poking me in the morning and having him take me in various ways all over my bedroom and adjoining bathroom. It was the perfect summer break, so far.

"I'm just a bit warm and dizzy," I managed to say. "Sometimes my inner ear decides to mess with my balance."

"Oh my, I hope it's not your cochlea. Better have Carlisle check you out when we get home."

The thought of seeing her doctor husband regarding an affliction I wasn't really suffering from only served to deepen my blush. I didn't want to think of having to face him and explain that my symptoms were not caused by a messed up inner ear, but more so by his son's sexual prowess.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Esme, thanks," I rushed to assure her. "So what are we making?" I continued, effectively changing the subject.

She started going through her grocery list, ticking off what we already had in our cart.

"Well, we'll start with a cocktail of cockabully, which we'll decorate with a cockade of lettuce and bell peppers," she said, pointing out the fish and vegetables.

Turning our cart toward the meat aisle, she continued, "Then we'll make cock-a-leekie and bruschetta. Then for the main course we'll be stuffing a cock with a vegetable mash with cochineal for some color. Emmett brought home a lovely rooster and butchered it himself. That bird won't say cock-a-doodle-doo anymore," she giggled.

I was still stunned silent by my mentor's overuse of the word 'cock' in those five sentences, convinced she was doing it to test my resolve and loyalty. And I was failing miserably.

"Bella, are you sure you're alright?" she questioned once more.

I couldn't take it any longer.

"I'm sleeping with Edward! He's got an amazing cock!" I blurted, completely ignoring we were still in the middle of the produce aisle.

Esme turned to me, mouth agape, as a few feet over a woman shot me a nasty look, hastily moving her cart and two small children to the next aisle. It seemed like hours before Esme was able to snap her mouth shut, the color returning to her face, while I could hear a little boy ask his mother what a cock was.

"Well, dear," she finally managed. "Thank you for that. I had a suspicion there was more going on between you lately. But you could have gone without painting such a vivid picture."

I hung my head, wishing the ground would open up and devour me, saving me from further embarrassment.

"But," she continued, causing me to hold my breath in anticipation. "I think you two would make a lovely couple. So please don't sneak around anymore, alright?"

She then surprised me further by hugging me, then continuing with her grocery shopping as if nothing had happened. I pulled out my phone and typed out a text to Edward.

_I just outed us to your mom._

His reply came minutes later.

_Good. Because I might have slipped up while having lunch with my dad._


End file.
